Sandalwood and Juniper
by Mrs.Robward
Summary: **ON HAITUS** For Bella and Rosie Swan, two sisters that come from a family of witches, falling in love may be the trickiest spell of them all. A magical blend of Twilight and Practical Magic. AH, Canon Couples
1. Chapter 1, Swan Sisters

**Disclaimer: Alice Hoffman is the sole owner of all things Practical Magic. **

**Stephenie Meyers is the sole owner of all things Twilight. **

**No copyright infringement intended.**

**All that's mine is a silly idea to add a touch of magic to Twilight, so I'll stake claim for Sandalwood & Juniper.**

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Introduction: I love the movie Practical Magic, so talking on Twitter one day I sent out a request that someone should write a fanfic about it. A few agreed but no takers, so someone mentioned the Practical Magic book & 22blue and I decided to buy it & read it. I loved it, as much - but differently, than I did the movie. So I decided to tray and make it into Twilight fanfic. I'm not going to say if the storyline will follow the book or the movies, PM or Twi. You'll have to read it to find out. I will say that I have the movie script for PM saved and you will see some things directly from the PM book & movie, w/maybe a Twilight quote thrown in too. I don't own them, not am I claiming to.

Some of the spells & herbs are researched, some I made up. Please don't try any of them.

The title, **Sandalwood & Juniper**, comes straight from the Swan's sister's spell book. Burning equal parts of crushed sandalwood and juniper for seven straight nights will break a curse. Plus, I've read a few times that a certain guy by the initials of E.C. smells like sandalwood?

This will probably beshort, like 10-15 chapters complete.

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**~Bella Swan, Age 12**

It was mid-September and the early nights were still warm and comfortable. Rosie and I sat on the rooftop outside my window and waited for the twinkling of the first star.

"I hate school, Rosie. All the kids are so mean," I sighed.

We'd only been back in school for three weeks, and I'd thought that maybe this year would be better – different, but I was wrong.

Our classmates avoided us and if we crossed their path, they'd hold up their fingers in the shape of a cross, _as if that would give them some sort of protection. _

No one would sit in a chair after we'd vacated it and every day we had a table in the cafeteria all to ourselves. We were always the last one picked for teams in P.E.. and we were never asked to join anything fun, like Girl Scouts, chorus, or art club.

"Bella, you've really got to stand up for yourself," Rosie stated as she shifted to rest on her elbows. "Why don't you use some of your special voodoo on them? Giv'em a little scare." She raised her hands in the air and shook her fingers. Her loud laughter echoed through the thick night air.

"That's just ...wrong. We're not supposed to use magic like that. You know what the Aunts say."

I didn't like to abuse the craft, especially against another person, and most importantly NEVER, ever in front of others!

"What? To be careful what you cast because it'll come back to you threefold? Blah, blah, blah. That's hogwash! Look at what they do every night Bella, and nothing ever comes back on them. Nothing." Rosie laid back down and folded her arms behind her head.

"But what if...?"

What if? It must be so nice to be as carefree as Rosie. To never let the little things bother or upset you. To never worry about the consequences of your actions.

Like just today when some of the boys were throwing small rocks at us on the way home from school, Rosie spun around and shouted "Boo" at them. They took off running, but not before we noticed that two of them had peed their pants. Of course, we were never injured or anything. The stones always missed us, even when they were thrown by boys who had the best aim for miles.

"So what, Bella. I'll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow." Rosie shrugged and then pointed to the black sky. "Look! A falling star! Make a wish!"

"Rosie," I sighed, "shooting stars are just burnt-out rocks heating a trail as they fall through the earth's atmosphere. That's all."

"You can think whatever you want, but I think I'll make a wish and who knows, it just might come true."

Then Rosie closed her eyes and smiled. I watched her lips barely moving as she whispered her wish so softly I couldn't hear it. I swear I think she wished to be more beautiful because it was like she grew prettier in the dim moonlight, right there before my eyes.

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**~Rosie Swan, Age 11**

Bella and I sat on the roof every evening. I'd never told her before, but it was my favorite part of the day.

When we sat on the roof together, the rest of the world melted away and it was just us two. That always felt right to me.

Bella could actually feel the onset of darkness. The beginning of the twilight hour gave her goosebumps and caused a shiver to start its upward path at her ankles instead of trickling down from her neck. Every time I saw her shiver, I looked to the sky.

This final phase of the day, before the night seized the lingering shadows of the sun, was when we were shoo'd to our room because a towns lady had come to the house for the Aunts' help.

We never complained about having to go to our bed early or argue that we weren't tired yet. Even in the late winter when twilight descended only hours after we'd come home from school.

Little did our Aunts know, we'd run to our room only to change into our nightgowns, tiptoe over to the attic steps, and quietly prop open the thick door. If we positioned ourselves just right, we had a direct view of the Aunts and their company.

When it came to dealing with outsiders, the Aunts had unspoken rules that were to be followed. Rules that had been passed through the town's female residents like the recipe for putting starter yeast for friendship bread in sealed Ziploc baggies.

Everyone who visited after sunset knew to always knock on the side door that led straight into the herb room right off the kitchen, or their presence would be ignored.

It was forbidden to enter any other room of the house without permission, and it was also rare to be invited to stay as a guest.

You were to keep your requests to yourself for at least forty-eight hours after you'd left or Rot Weed would grow at your front door and your luck would be soured for the rest of your days. It wasn't that the spells were secrets, it was more a test of your loyalty.

But what was most important to the Aunts, what they could express simply from the black depth of their eyes, was that every single woman who set foot inside their door had to be honest. They expected complete honesty. No matter the ugliness of the truth, or the consequences of what may be, the Aunts had to know everything. Only then would they attempt to make your deepest desires come true.

The Aunts had an uncanny way of smelling desperation for miles. When a woman overtaken with despair rushed up the cobblestone path, the aunts clucked like hens in heat shouting "Go, go, go," as they hurried us up the stairs. Bella and I would flap our arms and giggle all the way to our room.

No one ever asked what the Aunts could do for them, or how limited the Aunts' power was. They could see deep-down into your mystical dreams or your wildest imagination. Even into your darkest nightmares.

But love was Aunt Esme and Aunt Renee's specialty.

Sure they had cures for stomachaches and headaches. Oolong tea to calm your nerves and bugleweed to quell your worries. They often sold hopsflower or anise to end nightmares, and blue flag and cedar for riches they weren't earned.

Yet love, it was grand and magical in its own way.

Women would give over treasured heirlooms to guarantee that the love of their life would stay devoted; a woman wronged would give even more. The ones who were in love with a man who didn't return the sentiment were the most desperate. Regardless, if he was a husband or a father, a bachelor or a widower, there was no price too steep to pay. Those women would do anything for love.

Night after night as Bella and I watched, we learned things that I was sure most people didn't know.

Like how if you wanted to bind a man to your side, it was necessary to collect a few things. For instance, maybe a dozen or so stray hairs or his fingernail clippings.

We knew if you wanted a controlling mate, you sprinkled saffflower petal dust into his coffee.

Or if you desired a man with money, you must carry jezebel root deep in your pockets.

Sure many of the local townspeople were scared to come to our home. Ravens were known to perch in the large trees that surrounded the house, and it was said they'd attack you if you squinted when you looked up at them. Fog lingered around the base of the house longer than it should have and the grass was always the most vibrant color green and never needed to be cut. _"Death,"_ gossiping mouths would say. _"The buried bodies under the house fertilize that grass to make it perfect - unnatural even."_

When it came to the affairs of the heart, somehow those haunting rumors about the eerie house on Forks Lane no longer mattered. For nothing could keep away the desperate. Aunt Esme said that desire had a way of making a person oddly bold and courageous.

We also learned that sometimes with love, there was sorrow. Like when a woman was carrying a baby that didn't belong to her husband and she wanted to accidentally-on-purpose lose it to salvage her marriage.

We saw sadness in the women whose eyelids were raw and bleeding from crying over a man who'd cheated and broke her heart.

We saw revenge and determination from the ones who were ready to finally defend themselves against a man whose anger was way too big for his body.

We saw hopelessness and misery when a woman would stumble into the room and vomit into the garbage, razor markings on her arms and stomach bearing her secret crush's initials.

Bella would grab my hand and sometimes hide her eyes. The ladies often loosely carried around their burden of heartbreak and released it into our home, and the feelings lingered for days and weighed heavy on our own hearts.

"Do you forgive our mother?" Bella asked me one night after a woman left who'd been begging for mercy. Her husband was dying and she couldn't handle the suffering anymore: her's or his.

"Most of the time," I answered. "Maybe it wasn't her fault, you know? Maybe it wasn't even the curse. Maybe mother really did love him so much that she couldn't live without him."

"Yeah," Bella said as she tightened her grip on my hand, "Maybe."

Our knees would knock together as we held onto each other. I sometimes smiled with curiosity while Bella trembled with unease.

Bella leaned over and her eyes were hidden against my shoulder, "I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love." She chanted over the wailing of the librarian who'd just made her third trip in so many months to see the Aunts.

"I can't wait to fall in love," I whispered as soon as the book lady pierced the dove's heart with the bear claw and cried her love's name into the dark night.

I jumped when the wooden door locked behind the librarian as she dried her tears and left the house.

Then I couldn't help but shiver when I heard what Aunt Esme said. "You know, sister, what these females need to learn is that sometimes the most dangerous part of all matters of love is to be granted the desire of your heart."

"You are so right. Always be cautious what you wish for sister; you never know when you just might get it," Aunt Renee sighed.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

The next morning I was awakened by the clanging of pots downstairs.

_Bella must be cooking. I hope it's waffles! _I thought as I jumped out of the bed_. _

Instead, I found her in the herb room.

"Where are the Aunts?" I asked as I watched her circle the room, reading the labels on various jars.

"It's Saturday, they're at the Farmer's Market." She opened a jar and took a pinch of its ingredients, adding them to her bowl.

"What are you doing?" I peeked into the bowl and saw a mess.

"It's an Amas Veritas," she said without looking away.

"You're summoning a true love spell?" I tried not to laugh.

Bella just slowly nodded as she picked some jasmine and added it.

"But I thought you never wanted to fall in love?"

She stopped mixing the ingredients and looked at me, hope twinkled in her eyes.

"That's the point. I know the guy I'm dreaming of doesn't exist. And if he doesn't exist, I'll never die of a broken heart like our mother, and love will never, ever break me."

I followed her out through the garden and over to the top of the hill. The wind picked up and she raised her wooden bowl over her head.

It was almost a song as the words rolled off her tongue in perfect rhythm, "He will hear my call from a mile away, and hum my favorite song. His skin will smell like sandalwood and cinnamon. He'll be marvelously kind and the most handsome man I've ever seen. His favorite shape will be a star and he too, will befriend the moon. He'll have one green eye and one blue, and his hair will be the color of gold. He'll be able to know my mind and read my thoughts without me even saying a word."

Then she tipped her bowl, the herbs, petals, and stems swirling above us and dancing in the wind before being carried out to the sky.

"I hope I never fall in love," she said one more time before sitting down on the ground, the hope of never falling in love making her smile.

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_**"Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes... just be an illusion." ~Javan**_

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_**kellyjaxn** made the awesome banner linked on my profile! She's made a banner for every fic I've ever wrote. That's special! _

_**22bluefic** pre reads and chats with me. _

_**wytchwmn75** is all sorts of special. Not only does she pre read, she's giving me an inside scoop into the world of magic. *wink*_

_**amieforshort** pre reads. This gal actually liked me enough to pay money in the FGB Auction to pre read my fics. Nuff said!_

_**Lulu1709** pre reads, she squee'd a little when she heard that I was writing this, so yeah, I needed a cheerleader._

_And __**IG**__ is betaing for me. She corrects my crap like a billion times and scolds me for my misuse of the apostrophe_. _Oops. _

_Me? I'm found lurking on twitter as Mrs_Robward. _


	2. Chapter 2, The House and The History

**The disclaimer from the previous chapter holds true for every chapter. **

**Thanks to _22bluefic, lulu1709, wytchwmn75, amieforshort, & IG _for their help with this. **

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**~Bella Swan, age 14...**

Living as a witch wasn't something that happened over time; it was just who I always was. For as long as I could remember, the tingle of magic stirred within me.

Of course as we grew older, my sister Rosie and I learned the ways and rules of the craft, - the dos and don'ts, per se. Sometimes we learned accidentally, like when I was six and Jessica Stanley spit on me, and I made her fall off the balance beam just by glaring at her. I knew it was my fault because Jessica never, ever fell. Or when Rosie began to run a fever and I wished she would get better and that someone else would be sick instead, and Ben Frye was in the hospital for months.

That's when I knew to never point my finger haphazardly and always be extra, extra careful.

In the beginning it was simply amazing to witness the simple power of magic. How I could just think of the littlest thing and it would happen. Pages of a book would turn, or lights flickered on or off. I eventually learned to open and shut doors. All it took was a little concentration. I could gently blow on the wick of a candle and the flame would begin to glow. Rosie sometimes grumbled because she didn't seem to have as much influence as I did, but every time she snapped her fingers, your ears would pop when somewhere a twig broke in two.

There was no doubt, being a witch was in our blood. We never knew any different really. Recipe books were shelved alongside spell books, and talk of potions and magic were everyday chatter.

Unfortunately, society had branded all witches as evil and demonic; to be avoided at all costs.

For over three-hundred years, blame had been pointed at us Swan women for anything that went wrong for miles. If too much snow fell late in the winter months, if a bridge gave way from the flood of a too-wet spring season, if a mare died tangled in the fence, or a baby was stillborn, there was always a Swan to blame.

It didn't matter if the problem could be explained by thesis, science, or even plain-ol' bad luck. The whispers of the townspeople always led back to the ladies in the big house on Forks Lane.

Through the years, the gossip became folklore and the folk stories became legends. In no time at all, the legends became myths told by the local youth 'round a small campfire under a full moon.

The fables never told the complete story. I mean, we witches don't always dress in black or wear wide-brimmed pointed hats. We only use brooms for sweeping away dust and dirt, and sometimes our cats are calico instead of black.

Anyway, we let everyone believe whatever they wished. Rosie and I knew there was too much evidence around us to deny our hallmark.

Like the house where we grew up with the Aunts. The wind would howl around the structure during a strong storm, loud enough for all to hear. The furniture never needed polishing or dusting, and the wood used to build the home, never lost its natural scent. The blue-tinted windows were made of plain glass, but anyone who was brave enough to stand on the wrap-around porch could peer into them for hours and never be able to see through the thick panes. And if you looked through the glass from inside, it looked more like a dream; as if you were floating amongst the clouds.

The interior of the house was always dark, no matter the time of day, and no heat or air conditioning was ever needed anytime of the year. The constant cool air lingered through the house and sometimes tickled your cheeks like a gentle winter breeze.

Alum powder had been mixed with red brick dust and salt, and sprinkled around the perimeter of the house for protection and to secure their secrets within the home. What the Aunts practiced was not meant to be spread around the town with constant gossip and speculation.

Regretfully, the powder didn't always work.

There was a black iron fence that encircled the house like a fortress, with vines that grew straight up and hugged the metal, creating a wall of privacy. Rose and I never really figured out if it was to keep unwanted people away, or to keep us inside.

The only rule the Aunts had in their home was that there were no rules. There were no bedtimes, or mandatory baths. You could eat sugary snacks all day long and drink Dr. Pepper when you woke up with a dry throat in the middle of the night. Toothbrushes were optional and hairbrushes were sometimes hidden in the cracks of the couch cushions, not to be found for weeks.

Even more proof of our existence, more so than our three-story house with three locks on each and every door, was the history of why we came to live with the Aunts. The true story of our father who was cursed to die because he fell madly in love with a Swan. The undeniable facts that our mother ignored the deathwatch beetle as it came announcing their fate, and after his passing, she succumbed to her misery and died from a lonely, broken heart.

Rosie and I knew all about the lingering curse of our ancestors and how no man had yet to love a Swan woman and live to defeat it.

There was one other thing the Aunts insisted upon: when there was a knock upon door at twilight hour, we had to hurry on up to bed. We knew that twilight was the hour of sorrow, and it was when shadows lingered and disguised your features so no one could recognize who you were. It was in this bewitching hour that my sister and I witnessed the frightening, yet awesome power of love and how it might control you from head to toe and all the parts in-between.

We understood that love was nothing more than an emotion, like sadness or joy, but what we soon realized as we watched the desperate women knock on our door night after night, looking for answers, that love had to be the strongest emotion of them all.

Love could make you hate and wish for bad, bad things. Love could make you crazy and mean, and jealousy was often love's best friend. Love could make you selfish and destructive, and change you so drastically that you'd argue with your own reflection.

Love could also make the sunshine brighter and the flowers appear more beautiful. Love could make honey taste sweeter on your tongue and the sky so crystal blue, it was almost transparent. Love could make you smile so much your cheeks ached and every step you took was more like a skip as your feet barely touched the ground.

From our hidden perch right outside the attic door, Rose and I watched love manifest itself in so many different ways that when we'd sneak back to our room, we'd be dizzy.

Rosie and I viewed these revelations of love differently. I feared the heartbreak and the loneliness that seemed to always follow it, and I wanted to avoid it at all costs; whereas Rosie only longed for the high of the passion, and the lust of the touch. She wanted to live in love everyday and fight the curse to the bitter end.

The aunts always said we were like night and day. Rose was the vibrant light and I was the still dark. We never laughed at the comparison, and deep down, we knew and understood the truth behind it. It was no secret that the day longed for rest and calmness, and the depth that the darkness provided. Just as the night was always jealous of the warmth, life and busyness of the day.

With our appearance, we might as well have been strangers; the only similarity being our light brown eyes, which all the Swan women had. The pigment was so pale it was as if sand from a remote island had been poured into our irises. My long hair mirrored the bark of an old oak tree, weathered for decades. Rosie's even longer hair was the color of hay cut deep into the harvest that the sun had gently kissed.

Sometimes the Aunts referred to us as shapes, and I was the square. Everything in my world fit neatly into a box. I hated clutter and mess, and spent my free time cleaning and organizing. I always prepared healthy foods and rose with the sun. I was punctual and conscientious, and aside from magic, I knew never to believe in anything that could not be proven without facts or figures.

Rosie was a diamond, and a diamond never lost its worth. It would reflect and magnify the tiniest sliver of light. Rosie's skin seemed to illuminate and her complexion was always flawless, no matter how much chocolate she devoured. She was lazy and slept till lunch. She never did her homework and somehow always passed every class. A diamond could go through a fire and emerge stronger and more alluring that it ever was before.

We were only twelve months, twelve days, twelve hours and twelve minutes apart. I was technically older, yet the age difference never seemed to matter. The Aunts had even held me back a year so we could go through school together.

We were more like twins the kind that complete each other's sentences and share each other's pain, both emotionally and physically. We always knew what the other was thinking, and at night when we slept in each other's arms, we dreamed the same dreams.

We vowed to keep the other secrets with a pinky-promise and the chant, "Cross my heart, hope to die," and we both cringed when we recited, "stick a needle in my eye."

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**~Rosalie Swan, age 13...**

I often studied the centuries-old portrait of Maria Swan that hung at the top of the stairway at the Aunts' place. She was beautiful, like me, even though her hair was dark like Bella's. Of course, her eyes were the same color as ours, but what captivated me the most was the sorrow reflected there.

This painting must have been finished after she cast the spell, the one so she'd never fall in love again. She'd made the regrettable mistake of falling in love with a married man. Regardless of the fact that the tiny embryo thriving inside her uterus was his, he did not return her love.

The Aunts told us the story of how Maria often felt it was a curse in itself to be as physically attractive as she was. Men had a tendency to fall at her feet in front of their significant others. Teenage boys lost their breath as she walked by them on the street, only to dream about her for months afterward. Men who shouldn't have fallen in love with her did so without a single touch or words exchanged. Sometimes they swore that she came to them in the midnight hour, whispering passions in their ear and igniting desires that been dormant for years.

I often wondered if this was their innermost dreams or more like their own nightmares.

The word "witch" was often spat when anyone said her name and the townswomen of Salem often accused her of casting a bewitching spell over every male on the east coast.

Maria refused to flaunt her beauty, and she tried to keep to herself as much as she could until a tall gentleman came knocking on the door of her small cottage asking for shelter for the night. That's when she lost her grasp on every bit of reason she'd ever had.

It has been said that for months he'd call on her unannounced and they tangled themselves in her black silk sheets and in the throes of passion, they moaned their affections. He'd slip out sometime during the night before the rooster crowed. In the morning, Maria would find that he'd left a valuable stone at her bedside table; a sapphire or an opal, and sometimes even a diamond. She'd pick it up and hold it tight to her cheek, and even sometimes sniffed the stone to remember her lover.

When Maria was three weeks late for her cycle, she knew the reason. She decided to travel to the nearby town of Sommersport to find him and announce the good news.

But instead she saw him traveling by horse and carriage through the small town with his lovely wife on his arm, and a small son at his side.

Devastated and heartbroken, she returned to her lonely cottage and cried for days. When he finally came to her again one warm May evening, she unleashed her pent-up rage. She wailed and screamed and asked how he could love her while he was wed to another?

He was unrepentant. He mentioned he enjoyed their short nights together, but love? Absurd. She was just an excellent lay to him and now he wanted nothing more to do with her or his bastard child. He left in a rush, while she was nothing more than a heap of a crying, pregnant, unwed, mess-of-a-woman writhing on the floor.

Tears always pooled in the Aunts' eyes whenever they retold that part of the story and Maria's state of mind. How in her mood of despair, Maria vowed to never love again. She pleaded with the gods to save her from the crippling pains of unrequited love. She begged for her heart to heal enough to carry on and raise her unborn child. Then she whispered phrases she was unfamiliar with. Ones she wasn't sure where they'd originated from, but somehow she had them memorized frontward and backward. She knew that when spoken aloud - they would change everything. For hours she chanted the spell that altered the laws of the universe, ensuring that her unborn child and any other Swan woman descended from her would never, ever be hurt by love again.

Little did she know that her spell of protection would soon become a curse, and every female offspring of Maria's would still feel its afflictions. There would never be any wonderful forevers or happily-ever-afters and from then on, men, love, and Swan women were incompatible in every sense of the word.

Days later, when Maria was finally able to stand up again, she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. She almost stumbled over the small velvet bag of gems that had been placed on her doorstep. Once again she fell to her knees in heartbreaking agony.

He'd paid her to leave him alone.

In true witch fashion, every day she sipped on tea made from partridge berry leaves and walnut husks to protect her baby, and to help rid her of her past and her obsessive desire for a man who never loved her at all.

As the baby grew and the flutters in her stomach became more distinct, she packed a small bag full of clothes and left her cottage. All the valuable jewels of her lover were sewn into the hem of her cloak, and she set off to find a new home.

That evening before she left, she stood outside his house and wished evil things upon the man who had broken her heart and cracked her soul, and on his family for generations to come. Hearing that always made Bella grip my hand tighter, but I think if I were in Maria's boots, I'd do the exact same thing.

Then she fled Sommersport. Under the moonlight, she ran so fast through the town it's been said she ran through people's dreams as they slept. The next morning the towns' population awoke with a start. It was hard for them to catch their breath, and their thighs and feet ached as if they'd been the ones doing the running. But that same morning, her cruel ex-lover, he never awoke at all.

Maria soon found residence here, on Forks Lane. She pawned all the stones but one, and had this house built. Since then, it had been passed from generation to generation, always belonging to a Swan woman. Even after three-hundred years, it looked as though it had just been built.

Now when I looked at her portrait, what I find beyond the sadness and the beauty, is simply a reminder of what not to do. There was nothing wrong with falling in love; in fact there was nothing more that I'd rather do, preferably over and over again, but I just needed to stay smarter than it was and alwayd be in control.

It was laughable to be as far removed from the idea of love as Bella was. I foresaw her being cast as the lonely old cat lady of Newsburg. Women would pray before they go to sleep at night, "Dear God, please don't let me end up like that Bella Swan."

But then again, predicting the future wasn't really my gift. From what we understood from the aunts, it was our mother's.

For years our mother Alice, informed others of her visions and what was in store for their future. Even if there was an imminent death or a sickness forthcoming, she'd speak to them gently of the news.

Even with my father, she said she'd loved him before she even met him. She knew that the man in her visions was put on this earth specifically for her. When they met for the first time and their eyes locked, he brushed her long hair away from her cheek, and she saw them growing old together and her heart began to beat the sound of forever.

That's what love did for my mother: it made her deny and forget. She disbelieved the curse and ignored the visions she saw of their future and of her with two daughters living alone. The sight of her knelt over a solitary grave, clutching the cold ground as she wept. She imagined her future however she pleased, and let her knowledge of second sight fall to the wayside.

She cast every reversal spell she knew of. She even said her prayers backwards so that they were forever etched in time and took twice as long to reach the heavens.

Our mother even went so far as to never wed our father. She was trying to outwit the curse, but magic is bound to the intentions of your soul, and everyone knows you can't fool yourself for very long. So a witch that was cursed was who she was – nothing more, nothing less.

Even Aunt Renee and Aunt Esme hated to retell their own history of how they'd been affected by the curse which time after time seemed to claim the beloved of a Swan. They both fell in love with brothers at the prime of their teenage years. Brothers who returned their love wholeheartedly and couldn't stop their laughter whenever they visited the sisters. Brothers who stood on the steps of the huge Swan house almost forty years ago and promised to return the next day to take the ladies for a swim in a nearby creek.

With their hearts aflutter, the brothers ran away from the house as the sky darkened and rain began to pour from the clouds. They were brave and daring and only thought of the excitement of what the next day might bring. The aunts stood and listened to their laughter long after they disappeared out of sight.

What our Aunts learned that night was that lightning, like love, was unpredictable. Those brothers never made it home. The sky reached down and slapped them dead as they crossed the town green, melting the soles of their shoes to the blackened grass under their feet.

Sometimes, late at night, Aunt Renee and Aunt Esme say they can still hear the laughter of the boys they briefly adored running through the rain, their voices echoing youth and expectation, exactly as it was that night.

So I decided to always keep sage tucked in my shoe, to try and reverse the spell of my kin. Every full moon I'd soak in a tub filled with agrimony herb and pink Epsom salts to take back the hex and fill my life with love and passion, and last but not least, every year on my birthday, I'd bake a loaf of bread infused with the grains of paradise to ensure that my wishes of enduring, safe, true love would always be granted.

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_**"Believe in love. **_

_**Believe in magic. **_

_**Hell, believe in Santa Clause. **_

_**Believe in others. **_

_**Believe in yourself. **_

_**Believe in your dreams.**_

_**If you don't, who will?"**_

_**~Jon Bon Jovi**_


	3. Chapter 3, Practice of Love

_**Thanks to 22bluefic, lulu1709, wytchwmn75, amieforshort, & IG for their help with this.**_

_**Just a reminder, Bella was held back so that her & Rosie could be in the same grade & attend school together. **_

_**If you have watched the movie, some of this will be familiar, ditto with reading the book. **_

_******~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**_

* * *

**~Bella Swan, age 19**

"Bell! Bella! Pssst, Bell-lla! Wake up!"

Shit.

Rosie was on the roof again tapping on our window. I narrowed my eyes and glanced over at the neon clock. "Are you kidding me?" I grumbled as I went over to the window. Rosie didn't care that it was almost three in the morning. Nor did she care that we had to be up in less than four hours for school.

I lifted the heavy window and Rosie crawled through, rushing past me and jumping into my bed. She pulled the covers up to her neck not even bothering to remove her shoes or anything. I cringed as I thought of the dirt that was no doubt all in my bed now. "Ro," I whined, "what in the hell are you doing?"

"Bella," she whispered, "I have to tell you about Seth. I mean, like, Oh. My. Word!"

"No Rosie, you don't have to tell me about Seth. It's three o'clock in the damn morning! What you do have to do is get your nasty-ass out of my bed and let me sleep!"

She reached up and ran her fingers through my long hair, twirling the ends before letting it fall from her fingertips and starting all over again. "Please?" She begged, "I just want to talk to my favorite sister."

My resolve was slipping. "I'm your only sister." I crossed my arms over my eyes in defiance. She continued to twirl my hair trying to butter me up, knowing I'd cave soon enough. "So, what do you want to tell me?" I huffed as I rolled over to face her.

She proceeded to fill me in on their date. How he had a motorcycle and they rode along the coast watching the sunset. How he took her to the overlook and they made out under the stars. How her toes would curl from this thing he did with his tongue, which repulsed me and made me curious at the same time.

She carried on and on and I was jealous. Each sentence she spoke, I was hanging by a thread. Visions of her date flashed in my mind of how I imagined it. Then she became quiet with a sigh, and soon afterward she was snoring. I was left wide awake, just me and my thoughts of her night out, wondering when it would be my turn.

_Damn her!_

We were seniors now and Rosie had been sneaking out of the house since middle school. I don't why she used the window instead of the front door. The Aunts knew and even encouraged her. She had no curfew or responsibilities, and the only lecture she was ever given was that babies were easier to prevent than to raise.

Rosie and I both had a spare key to the '92 Honda Accord that was parked in our driveway. The Aunts preferred to walk as often as they could, so we used it to drive back and forth to school. I drove it sometimes to the library or the grocery store. Rosie drove it to parties and bonfires and most of the time she didn't come home 'til after dawn.

I often wondered if it was Rosie's confidence that made her so beautiful, or was she drop-dead gorgeous because she was so confident? Kind of like the age ol' question of what came first – the chicken or the egg?

Rosie embraced her beauty; she didn't need the help of spells or wishes to gain her admirers. She was the epitome of perfection and all too often, I envied her in every aspect of her life. Her beauty, her happiness, her carefree nature, her willingness just to ...live. But mostly because of her attitude about relationships and love. I began to realize that over time my fear of being in love was being replaced with curiosity and maybe a tad bit of ...longing?

I was regretful that I had ever eavesdropped in on the Aunts and their customers. I wanted to be ignorant about the ideals of love. I knew too much of random women's foolishness and desperation, but even as stupid as it sounded, I wanted it too. The memories of my spells and wishes as a child to ward away love were long forgotten. I wanted so much to believe that love couldn't be ruled or altered by magic and that love itself WAS a magic all its own.

For a while now, I've wanted to have a boyfriend and go on dates. I'd even settle for just once being kissed under the light of the moon. I craved the touch from some cute guy that make my toes curl like the cut skin of an apple.

The boys who used to tease and throw rocks at us now worshiped the ground Rosie walked on, and by association only, I was no longer picked on either. All the girls idolized her too, and most of the time it was a sad sight to see. She liked to test how far those desperate girls would go. So far, Rosie had brought back the fashion of polyester rompers and denim overalls. She once convinced "the girls" to wear tons of blue eye shadow and purple lipstick. If Rosie cut her hair in a bob with a rattail, or clean to her ears, within days every salon in town was booked because all the other female residents did the same.

We both thought it was utterly absurd that our peers wanted any little bit of Rosie they could get, and that even somehow mocking her was enough to make them feel better about themselves. But in a way I did understand, because I loved and looked up to Rosie too. She was everything to me; her good with the bad was all worth it and becoming more like her was a good thing to do.

She had this smile that charmed all her male teachers, and she passed those classes with ease. She shared her secrets of her flawless skin and shiny hair with her female teachers and they'd pass her too.

Rosie legs were long and shapely, and when she showed them off, she actually stopped traffic. Her waist was small and her boobs were perky. According to some of the articles in the magazines Rosie frequently read, her figure couldn't have been more perfect.

Rosie broke hearts like most of us break dishes: totally by accident. She didn't do it intentionally, yet she didn't hold on very tight to love either. She could simply go to the store to buy a soda and come back going steady with the bag boy. Then after a few days, she'd get bored and find a new beau. She often said it was the mystery of a new love that gave her such a high, and she felt addicted to it. Not knowing what was next: if he'd call or not. If he was shy or bold, or a good kisser. If he was old-fashioned and would try to first sweep her off her feet. For Rosie solving all those riddles was such a thrill, it could get her drunk off of air and cause her to stumble on flat ground.

But after any high, there would be soon be a low – one that Rosie would always come away unscathed from.

I'd come to the conclusion that Rosie and I were cursed in our own way. Rosie could fall in love as often as the clouds blew in from the west, whereas it seemed that I couldn't fall in love at all.

And it wasn't for the lack of encouragement or trying. The Aunts continuously told me to not be so good and that there were more important things in life than reading, laundry, and dusting. They argued that I wouldn't know a good time if it jumped up and bit me in the ass.

So they bought me fancy bath salts, slinky shoes, and lacy underwear. They liked to arrange it so that I was the only one home when some guy delivered the random things the Aunts had ordered over the phone. Or when Mike Newton would bring the monthly gardening supplies from his father's store and I had to sign the order. Or when Ben Cheney came to clean the gutters and I was the only one there to welcome him.

Sometimes they even persuaded Rosie to ask her date to bring a friend along so we could double.

So eventually I gave into my curiosities and everyone's encouragement, and I dated. Needless to say, I really, really tried. I even kissed them under the moonlight, but my toes never curled and my stomach never tumbled, not like Rosie said it should. Every date I had, I practically willed myself to fall in love, my thoughts centered, straight, and deep. Mike Newton and I kissed for hours on our first date and I waited for the tickle of love to wash over me and intoxicate me.

It never did.

There was no uncontrollable whirl in my heart even after Mike professed that he loved me and I was "it" for him. So I refused to date him twice; it just wasn't fair to him and even in the matters of love, I believed in fairness.

So all through our senior year, I dated again and again, and I failed.

I, like Rosie, soon had admirers who left promises written on paper in my locker and passed me notes during lectures. I began to wonder over time if maybe my heart had hardened just enough so that I would never fall head over heels and I could finally be the one that beat the Swan curse.

I couldn't deny that my inquisitive desire to love sometimes ruled my life, which was truly ironic, given my earlier misgivings. Some days I didn't know if I should give up completely or try that much harder. But one thing was for sure, if I ever found love, I would never, ever let it go.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

Three days after graduation, Rosie and I were standing on the roof, our faces wet with tears –hers of excitement, mine of sadness. The moon was bright, not a cloud in the sky. Yet tonight I think even the stars felt my bleakness because they weren't shining very bright at all.

Rosie still refused to use the front door and was getting ready to climb down the lattice to her escape.

"Don't go," I whispered, knowing that I was being selfish and greedy.

"Oh Bella, it'll be all right. I'll call you every day." She twirled my hair around her long finger, her nails painted candy-apple red.

"Please." I cried as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Without Rosie I was going to be lost in a world that would surely swallow me whole. I felt like fate was picking us up, spinning us around, and then depositing us into completely alternate futures.

That wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

"I'm sorry, I have to go Bell. I want a real life, away from the gossip and this town. I want to go where no one has ever heard of us." She looked down at Tyler Crowley who was waiting in his Ford Ranger, his smile so big and wide his teeth glowed in the moonlight. "You could go with us," she whispered, her voice low and whispery, the way it always was when we used to sit at the top of the steps.

"You know I can't leave." I felt defeated and let my arms drop from around her. "Do you love him enough to run away with him?"

Rosie giggled and the crickets silenced. "Oh, come on Bella. What's enough?"

"But Rosie, I feel like I'll never see you again."

She dropped her bag on the roof and grabbed my hands. "Of course you will. We'll grow old together. It'll be you and me living in this big ol' house. I bet we'll even die on the same day."

"You swear?" I gripped her hands tighter and tried to hold back the sob from leaking from my throat.

"Of course." She let go of my hands. "Wait right here." She disappeared in through the window and a couple of minutes later crawled back out with a small pocket knife.

"Give me your hand." I did as she said and she held my palm open. I closed my eyes tightly when I felt the blade pierce my skin. As she cut she chanted quietly so I couldn't hear her, but it must have been something to keep my pain away because I didn't feel a thing.

"Your blood," she spoke aloud.

I looked down as the crimson liquid pooled in my hand. Then she cut her palm the same way. The blade sparkled from the light of the moon and stars, and the air around us seemed to still.

"My blood." Her voice was calm and hushed.

We joined hands, the warmth of our blood mixing caused my fingers to tingle. I looked up from our hands and our eyes met. I could feel her happiness surrounding my heart, making it beat faster.

"Our blood," we whispered together.

We raised our hands above our heads as two stars skated across the darkness and fell from their home.

"Always," Rosie said as she squeezed my hand for the last time.

She closed the pocket knife, and handed it to me. I watched in silence as she picked up her small bag, flung it down to the ground, and descended the lattice to her getaway.

She climbed in and slammed the door seconds before Tyler's old truck rumbled and sputtered down the road.

I shivered as the night became colder and the dew filled the air around me like steam from a hot shower.

Then, as the tears poured from my eyes, and my sobs shook my chest, I cried with all that I had left.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

Rosie had left nine weeks ago.

I knew that she wouldn't call every day like she said she would. She wasn't too good with responsibilities, but she did send me postcards. Each with a message of "I wish you were heres" or "miss you like crazys," and each stamped with a different city, with almost always a new man's initials scribbled inside of a puffy heart.

_Man, I miss her_.

I closed the mailbox door and wiped away the lone tear that was slowly creeping down my cheek.

"From Rose?" Aunt Esme asked as Aunt Renee and I walked out the front door of the post office.

"Yep," I nodded. "She's in Orlando."

"Ooooh, Orlando's nice." Aunt Renee said as she waved at the passersby on the street as they walked away from us faster than they normally should.

"I wonder who J.A. is?" I rambled as we walked.

"So a new one huh?" Aunt Renee giggled.

"Go figure; it's just insane. She keeps going through them like dishrags." I couldn't help but smile and shake my head.

"Hopefully, some day she'll find a guy who'll go through her." Aunt Esme teased as he wiggled her eyebrows.

Sandy Lacey was rushing ahead of us and she covered her daughter's eyes as if trying to keep her from seeing us.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Lacey!" Aunt Renee shouted. "Hope your husband's canker sore is finally disappearing. Gosh darn things!" she waved with way too much enthusiasm.

Mrs. Lacey almost broke into a sprint running away from us. Her eyes were wild and you could tell she was embarrassed. It was lunchtime and the streets were full of her peers – the ones she tries to impress with her fake tan and the SUV she couldn't afford.

"Is is too much to ask for?" I huffed. "Just a normal life and not to be looked at like I'm a freak, that's all I want."

Both of the Aunts stopped in their tracks and turned to look at me with pity.

"My darling Bella, when are you going to understand that 'normal' is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage," Aunt Esme sighed.

"Well, it's what I want," I said petulantly.

"Be careful what you wish for dear. Just…Be…Careful…What…You…Wish…For," Aunt Renee said in a sing-song voice as we took off walking again.

I was careful. I was always careful. I never spoke of the craft to another person, good or bad. And I only used magic for silly things, like stirring my hot chocolate or turning off my lamps. I never used it to cast harm or invoke evil, or even for good things; I never gained from my powers. Never.

Many days, I pretended I wasn't a witch at all. I wanted normal – a lot, almost as much as I wanted Rosie back under our roof.

If I couldn't have one, maybe, just maybe, I could have the other. And who knows, with any change of my luck, someday I would have both.

* * *

**"Love and magic have a great deal in common. They enrich the soul, delight the heart. And they both take practice." **


	4. Chapter 4, Finally and Then Too Soon

_**Thanks to 22bluefic, lulu1709, wytchwmn75, amieforshort, for their help with this.**_

_*** Remember, some of this I borrow straight from the movie or the script, so it may seem familiar. But that still doesn't make it mine.***_

_******~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**_

* * *

**~Bella Swan**

Rosie had been gone six months. She never called, and her postcards became few and far between. She had promised she'd come home to visit for Christmas and the New Year, yet the holidays came and went without her.

As much as I hated to admit it, over time I missed her less. I often looked down at the scare on my palm and traced it with my fingertip, sometimes I even kissed it, hoping she knew that I still loved her and missed her like crazy.

On her last postcard I'd received she'd scribbled words in the outline of a circle. Simple words that stirred something inside me, words that wouldn't stop replaying inside my mind like a broke record. '_Promise me you won't lock yourself away in THAT house. You'll lose yourself. There's a whole world out here Bell. At twilight when the wind blows, I swear I hear it calling your name, daring you to live. I miss you too much. Always, ~Ro'_

Her words cut to the bone and angered me. She didn't know what I was doing, if I was living or not! She had no idea that my life merely consisted of cooking meals that no one really wanted and polishing furniture that never needed dusting – but still!

I never even had the chance to tell her that the Aunts were teaching me everything I would ever need to know about our garden and the herbs they grew and sold. It made me feel useful and smart. I also found it relaxing to lose myself in the ways of nature.

She didn't know that I was working part-time at Newton's Hardware in the garden center sharing what I was learning with customers that would approach me. Some people still avoided me with cautious eyes, but for the most part, I was accepted. Heck, I even sometimes volunteered at the library.

So there! I was living, it just wasn't very exciting and maybe it wasn't even worth telling, but it was... me. Like some people, I wasn't traveling with freedom and excitement, but dammit – I was living with purpose!

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

The Aunts knew better than to make a fuss about today. I wasn't too old to lock myself in the attic and hide under the covers until the sun rose again tomorrow.

Today was my birthday and I suppose for others, turning twenty-one would be a pretty exciting milestone. For me, it was just another day. I was headed into town to buy some fruit and vegetables at the Farmer's Market. I just wanted to cook and lose today's significance in flour, butter, and fruit.

I passed Jessica Stanley at the corner and couldn't help but laugh out loud. A few years ago, Rosie told her that if she wanted to be noticed by all the guys in town she should get a tattoo of a spider's web covering her neck.

That stupid girl did it.

Now even in the heat of June, Jessica wore turtlenecks hiding the ugly tattoo. I overheard Lauren saying at the library the other day that Jessica was planning a trip to Atlanta to see about getting it surgically removed.

_I wonder if Ro ever regretted telling her that..._

And just like that, my laughs turned to quiet sniffles. This would be the second birthday in a row that I'd be without my Rosie. Of all the people in the small circle of my life, she was the only one I wanted to acknowledge it. The only one I wanted to sing to me happy birthday and bake me a cupcake with too sweet icing. Yet the only one that mattered to me, seemed to have forgotten all about me and the date on the calendar.

I wondered around aimlessly at the market. My mind had gone blank forgetting if it was peaches or apples I was going to purchase. Tears streamed down my face and with each slow beat of my pulse, my heart broke a little more.

I felt the warmth of a searing hand touch my bare arm, asking if I was all right. I closed my eyes and shook away my hurt, burying it deep down where it might get lost inside.

"I'm okay," I huffed finally looking up to find concerned eyes watching me closely. I stumbled away from his touch. It was suffocating, yet calming. His dark eyes were so deep and comforting, I felt lost again.

"Jacob, hello." I've known Jacob for years. His father had the best fruit stand in the entire lower half of Massachusetts. The aunts had introduced us on our first trip to buy a bushel of plums. Lately, Jacob had been away, caring for his ailing grandmother in New Mexico. "You're back." I spoke aloud, not sure to him or to myself.

"Yeah, good to see you again Bella." Just hearing his voice brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me of what I wanted – the companionship, the relationship, the...love. The sunken tone of his voice leisurely washed over my skin, causing me to gasp with desperate want.

I turned and ran. I ran from damn Jacob Black and his warm touch. I ran from his bass voice and wet lips. I ran from the look that was in his eyes, the one that told me that he wanted me the same way I wanted him.

I shouldn't replace my loneliness with the first man I come across. It was all an illusion, a distraction. It couldn't be genuine or even worth it. I ran even faster knowing it just wasn't meant to be.

I ran from him taunting me with... forever.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

The next day right before noon, I felt a buzz. It was as if a hundred flies had landed on my skin. I dropped my dust rag and stood up looking around for the source of my discomfort. Maybe the door had blown open and there was a breeze rushing in from a distant storm.

I walked outside and looked to the sky. There were no clouds, no rain, and no breeze. But there was sunshine and there was this pull, balmy sunshine that dominated my steps, one foot in front of the other. Steps that took me in a direction I was familiar with and along with that pull – that tug – there was an excitement, and anticipation, and promise. It was good... and welcomed... it was completeness.

It was my heart directing my body to move, my soul taking charge over my fears – my future rising above my past and granting my wishes.

Without conscious guidance, my feet retraced the exact steps I'd retreated the day before. As life sometimes allows, a blessing, a promise, I ran to instead of running away.

Turning the corner into the farmer's market, I crashed into the chest of Jacob Black. He too had been running, his feet carrying him to me. His arms enveloped me and he whispered my name a thousand times, like I was his favorite song. The muscles in my legs relaxed, my held breath escaped my lungs, and all I could think of was... finally.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

Within weeks Jacob and I were married and moved into the attic at the Aunt's house. He was just so easy to love. He was selfless, thoughtful, and well-mannered.

He made himself right at home, cleaning the gutters and trimming the hedges. He took the Honda apart and put it back together so it didn't backfire anymore when you put it in park. Somehow, he also knew to stay out of the herb room near the twilight hour and not ask questions about the women who still came to the back door – maybe Jacob had his own sixth sense.

I was happy because love was finally mine and the thing about it all, was that it was just so natural. It wasn't forced, and I didn't even have to try to love him, I just... did.

He kissed me slow and deep, his caresses soft and possessive. He would slowly remove my clothes with the curtains wide open and the light from the full moon illuminating my body. Jacob knew how to love all my worries and apprehensions away.

Little by little, without even realizing it, when I thought of Rose, I began to pity her. Let her chase random men state to state; let her kiss every fool that crossed her path and break every promise she made to us that mattered. Let her feel sorry for her sister, thinking I was cooped up in this old house and that I was not living.

For once, Rosie was wrong.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

After Jacob moved in, the old house on Fork's Lane began to change. The house became warm and cheery. Our love chased away the eeriness and the darkness. Our house was now a ...home.

Two weeks before our first wedding anniversary Antonia; our daughter was born right there in our attic bedroom. There was so much joy between us all, I was afraid the walls may give out. That night, the creaking of the foundation was replaced by a sound; one as if a river was flowing right through the house. The noise was so beautiful and so real that the mice came out of the walls to make certain that the place was still standing and a meadow hadn't taken its place. It was the sound of pure peace and serenity.

To the aunts constant badgering, we mutually decided that Antonia and I would keep the last name "Swan." Jacob understood it was a family tradition and thought it to be perfect. It only felt right to have his last name added on to ours; I was now Bella Black Swan. We had a good laugh thinking how our names sounded like some secret government mission.

The aunts went to spoiling our baby immediately. Syrup was added to her bottles and as soon as she was eating solids, cake was her favorite breakfast. She was allowed to make mud-pies in her best clothes and she was never, ever told 'no' in any form of the word.

Antonia was a happy child, never crying or fussing except for the night exactly two years after she was born when her sister Kylie joined the family.

It only took days to realize that Kylie was special. Even the aunts who thought that Antonia was beyond compare, predicted that Kylie took after her grandmother Alice – she would see what others could not.

She tilted her head and listened for the rain before it fell. Her eyes would close seconds before thunder would rattle the windows. She would point to the sky right before a raven would fly overhead. Kylie was such a good baby that people would peer into her stroller and feel peaceful and drowsy just by looking into her eyes.

Sometimes with all the baby talk the aunts feared that maybe Antonia was feeling left out. They take her out to the garden at midnight, way too late for a toddler to be awake, and they show her how nightshade bloomed in the dark. They'd tell her to listen with her big-girl ears, which were much more in tune than her baby sister's were, and that she could hear the earthworm's moving through the soil and the birds sleeping in the distant trees.

I began to realize that sometimes, fate begins to feel remorse and decides to give you favor. My life was becoming everything I had ever wanted. Rosie and I even kept in touch with letters and random phone calls. She was still the same ol' Rosie, but even she had acknowledged that I had changed.

Every time I received a letter, I wrote her back immediately, sometime sending two letters, knowing that her return address could change before she even had time to receive it.

_Dear Rosalie,_

_Today is our third anniversary and all I have to show for it are 2 beautiful little girls and a husband I just can't stop kissing. I wish you could see us. You wouldn't believe how everything has changed. No more stones being thrown, no taunts cried out. Everything is just so blissfully normal. Life is perfect. It's just what I wanted. Every single thing._

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

There were times when my past apprehensions and doubts would find their way back to the forefront of my thoughts. Especially went the house was stone quiet, my sleeping husband at my side.

The moon and stars were the same exact distance away from me that they had always been. They reminded that I was still Bella Swan and that the only thing that had really changed was my name and my age.

I was still a witch, even though I didn't practice the craft. I was still apprehensive and confused by love and how it could really be so simple that it was complicated. I was still a descendant of a cursed family and was I really so fortunate that I was the one to finally break that spell?

Sometimes all those worries were just too much, so with a shake of my head I dismissed them all. I had better things to think about. I didn't want to focus on the ways of the witches. Sometimes you had to dismiss the good, to abolish the bad.

* * *

**~Esme Swan**

Often there are forces in life that make you blind to the world around you. Forces like love, hope, and faith.

Like a little girl so adoring of her father that she never noticed the bruises on her mother's face, or the newlywed who dismissed the strange calls to his wife's phone at one in the morning. Even the heart attack survivor who ignored the pain first thing in his chest when waking up the morning.

Those signs, they were there for a reason. They were the universe's way to alert you to _look,_ to open up your eyes, and to _see._ Then you could prepare and adjust. So many times, the predetermined course of our future could be coped with if we were to only look around and be aware.

Just like now, Renee and I hadn't slept for days. The deathwatch beetle had made abode in our home. His signal for Bella's husband's death resounded in our ears like the vibration of an earthquake, one so strong that no ground remained untouched.

The beetle itself had set up camp right under his kitchen chair. The insect, which marked off time clicking like a clock, issued the sound no one ever wanted to hear beside their beloved. A man's time on earth was limited as it was, but once the beetle begins it's countdown, there was no way to stop it. No red wire to pull, no switch to hit, no pendulum to stop.

Renee and I knew, without even voicing the words, how soon our lives would change. We too, had grown fond of the man who lived among us. If we'd only known how this would end, we might not had done it at all.

So far, only my sister and I had heard and acknowledged it's call. Denial had a way to deafen the ear and numb the mind. Bella knew what the beetle summoned, she had just chosen to behave like her mother, somehow trusting that refusing to believe took away the probability it could happen.

Bella dismissed our warning, calling it nonsense and laughing in our faces. She told us that she could turn a blind eye to the foolishness we conducted in the herb room, but she would not let it affect her family. She called it nothing more than rubbish, and a silly porridge mixed up to feed the delusions of the desperate.

She wouldn't debate the reason of the black dog who had taken to sitting on the sidewalk outside of the house, howling at the moon every evening. And how it hung its head and tucked its tail when Jacob walked past it.

Renee and I did what we could. We put myrtle under his pillow and replaced his soap with black holly wash. We put our luckiest rabbit foot into his coat pocket and added rosemary and lavender to all his drinks.

Yet the beetle never silenced.

I saw the fright in Bella's eyes when the girls began to cry every time Jacob left their sight.

The lesson Bella had learned all those years ago as a child, to be careful what you wished for, was so far and faded from her mind that it had turned to yellow dust. The sort of dust you couldn't sweep away, instead it lingered in the corners and blows right into your eyes when a cold draft moved through the house.

"Why doesn't Jacob hear it then? If it follows him around, ticking away his precious minutes of life, why doesn't he ever hear it?" Bella seethed with confusion and desperation.

"Oh my love, no one who is doomed can hear the sound of the deathwatch beetle. That's why he insists nothing is wrong. He would go mad." Renee said as she hugged Bella.

"Then why can't I hear it? Tell me that!" Bella would ask through her frustrated tears. Then as soon as we tried to answer, she would turn and huddiely walk away. She never stayed to receive our answer. For she had to know, for to be able to hear, she had to listen.

We began to see the change in Jacob. He removed his watch, and each and every day he set back all the clocks in the house by a few minutes. When the ticking became louder to our ears, he drew the blinds and pulled down the curtains, as if that could stop time. As if anything could.

* * *

**~Bella Black Swan**

The Aunts were know-nothings. I'd researched the deathwatch beetle at the library and looked through every insect book I could find. The deathwatch beetle ate wood - that was it. Our furniture and the walls might be in danger, but not my Jacob.

I scoffed at the Aunts and their preventions to save my husband. Didn't they know they were encouraging the legend? They were pouring gasoline on a fable made of coal. I believed it was smarter to just ignore it all. With time, they would see how wrong they were. Belief gave the magic strength, so if you have weak faith, rejection should follow.

Antonia was four and was enrolled in preschool three days a week. Kylie was almost two and just beginning to sleep through the night. This wasn't going to happen. Not to us. Things were good. I had done everything right. I was a good person. Jacob was a good person. Our daughters were healthy and happy. We didn't deserve for anything bad to happen.

Even though I didn't have much faith in their silly premonitions anymore, all the talk of death had made me nervous. I'd lost my appetite and at night, I never slept. All I ever felt was doom, especially when he would leave my side, I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw him alive. When he kissed me I never wanted to let go, as soon as his lips were away from mine, my tears would fall uncontrollably.

Fear confuses the feeble, and anxeity weakens the soul. I had been kind to the power of magic, was it so crazy to believe it would spare me?

I refused to give in to the knowledge that something as silly as bug could doom my life. I knew it was folklore of our ancestors and the myths had been trusted for generations after generations, but I was going to be the first to go agasint it. If I did not believe, it would not happen.

I knew it.

I was angry too, because this was exactly what I had wanted to avoid. Sometimes I had began to wish that I'd never fallen in love at all. It had made me too helpless - that was what love did for you. There was no way around it, no way to fight it, and I would never, ever get over it. Now, if I lost Jacob, I would lose everything.

**~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~**

I was lying in my bed, watching the shadows of the tree in the front yard dance on my walls when I heard it for th first time. It was like a heart beat or an old grandfather clock that had just been wound.

It was a click or a ... a tick.

It wouldn't stop, even after I covered my ears with my hands, somehow it just grew louder. Even when I tried to bury my head underneath the pillow and the covers, I heard it.

Tick. Tick.

I jumped out of bed, looking for an old clock that had went haywire or one of the girls toys they had forgotten to shut off.

I searched every room, finally giving up when I entered the kitchen.

Then I saw something small dart beneath Jacob's chair. A small shadow of thing, one that's sound was way worse than its might, and my heart sunk down to my feet.

That night at twilight I found myself, on my knees in the herb room begging the Aunts to help me, just as all those desperate women had done before me.

"Please save Jacob. I'll give you anything I can. I'll believe in anything. Just tell me what to do!"

They dropped to their knees beside me and held me with their weak arms. "Some fates are guaranteed no matter who tries to intervene," they apologized though their sobs.

We cried until the sun rose the next day. Jacob was still alive but I felt like I had already lost him.

* * *

_**A child's kiss is magic. Why else would they be so stingy with them? **__**~Harvey Fierstein**_

* * *

_So if you're familiar with Practical Magic, you know what this is all about. I am shocked to learn that many of you are not (GASP!), so you maybe thinking WTF? _

_In case your wondering Edward & Emmett will make an appearance in 2-3 chapters. I promise. Also the daughters are the original characters from PM. _

_I will be happy to answer any of your questions if you leave them in a review, trust - I AM NOT A JACOB shipper. I am ExB fan, ALL. THE. WAY! _

_~Stacy_


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